When With Rome (Perfect Gentlemen Book 1)

by Natalie Gayle

  I look at him curiously. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re relaxed and seem really content with the food. Plus, you’ve eaten every last bit of food, sucked the bones clean, and licked your fingers. Dead giveaway!”

  I glance at my plate, then slowly look back up at him in a teasing way. Maybe the beer on top of the wine is going to my head. “It’s the bones, isn’t it? That’s what gave me away. I couldn’t resist.”

  “Nor should you. You’re supposed to be doing what you want and enjoying everything.”

  We look at each other across the table of the booth on the window where we sit. The bar isn’t very busy, and a country song plays in the background.

  I’m trying to read what he’s thinking. His eyes are so intense. It’s as if he’s trying to see into my soul. What is he searching for? Am I even reading his look accurately? I have drunk quite a bit today, although I don’t feel tipsy. Relaxed more than anything, but now, a little on edge with Rome looking at me like this.

  He doesn’t break contact with my eyes.

  The only thing which changes is the air shifting around us. It’s as if everything else in the bar dulls into insignificance. There’s just Rome and me.

  In the time we’ve been together, I’d never seen Rome look so serious or grave. A moment ago, he appeared relaxed, and now, he’s intense. Whatever he’s about to tell me isn’t easy for him to voice, of this, I’m certain

  He pushes our plates to the edge of the table and moves the beers toward the wall, then reaches for my hands. His fingers are cool to the touch. Probably from hanging on to the chilled glass beer bottle.

  His eyes glance down for a long moment, and I see him steady himself before he looks up and his eyes snare mine once again.

  “I’m about to break all the rules here, Carlene. Every rule I’ve lived by for the last ten years.” His voice is low and raspy. It’s filled with an emotion and a warning I haven’t heard from him before.

  My body stiffens in response to the anxiety I feel running from his body, through his fingers to mine. I sense what he’s going to tell me, and I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it. If I’m guessing correctly, it’s the next obvious progression from him opening up last night and telling me about his past.

  Part of me wants the words. I want to hear them—so much. I want to be the one who’s different to him. I want to be his unicorn.

  But my heart and girlish fantasies are doing the talking.

  Crazy talk.

  Common sense and maturity tell me, some things are better left unsaid. Left to the imagination. Left to mystery.

  I can’t do it to him.

  I can’t give him the hope, because I know to my very essence, I don’t fit into his world. Tonight is a perfect example. I’m pubs and finger food. Rome is fine dining and Champagne.

  I’m nothing more than a temporary interloper in fantasyland.

  We’ve said from the beginning, our time together is about living in the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Those lines have been blurred over the last couple of days. We both know it. But somehow, if the words aren’t said, we’ll be okay. The fragile bubble we live in won’t burst. Stretched, maybe, but not broken.

  I couldn’t stand for it to be broken.

  I pull my hand from his, press my index finger across his lips and silence him.

  “Don’t say the words. Don’t make something more of what can never be.”

  Pain slashes thorough his eyes, and I feel it deep in my belly, too. We can’t deal on false hope or promises.

  “You’ve said from the beginning to live in the moment. Do that for me. For us. That’s all this is ever supposed to be, Rome. Our worlds are too different.”

  Rome is USA. I’m Oz.

  This is a holiday of a lifetime.

  Not my real life.

  These are beautiful memories for me to treasure forever.

  It can never be.

  I’m starting over and have to find me first.

  Besides, I could never share him with his job, and he would never ask me to.

  Our time together is as it is supposed to be. An amazing fantasy morphing into my reality for a very short time. Just like Rome has said, the fantasy gets fulfilled, then you move on.

  We would too—apart.

  Friends at best, fond memories at worst.

  The way it’s supposed to be.

  The hurt and disappointment is there for me to see. I know exactly what it is, because I’m feeling it too. My throat constricts as I take a sip of beer.

  “Is that what you want?” he whispers, his face scarcely inches from mine.

  “Don’t ask me that, Rome. It can never be. I’m going to go home soon, and you’ll go back to your day to day life.”

  He nods slowly, resignedly.

  I take his hand in mine again.

  “Please, Rome, don’t ruin it. Let’s enjoy the rest of our time together. And when it comes to the end, you’ll kiss me goodbye, I’ll get on the plane, and maybe we’ll exchange an email every now and then. You’ll wish me well, and I’ll know you truly mean it. I’ll do the same for you.”

  My throat starts to get difficult to control, and the tears welling in my eyes are a hairsbreadth from spilling over. I won’t let them fall. I won’t break. I won’t be a blubbering mess.

  I’m not that woman.

  Strong I am, and strong I will be.

  I will be strong enough for both of us and do what needs to be done.

  “You’re right.” His voice acknowledges his return to reality, and it’s one of the most painful admissions I’ve ever heard.

  Ever had to accept, even if I’m the one who asked for exactly that.

  It’s for the best. We could never work, and it would be stupid to try and make it happen. More than likely, we’d only wreck whatever is there between us— if in fact, it’s real in the first place.

  The server picks that moment to collect our dirty plates, and I’ve never been so glad to be interrupted.

  A few moments more with this pain in my belly, and I might well not be strong enough to do what needs to be done.

  Rome

  I stare at the decorative number plate on the wall above her head. My heart and hopes have been whisked away right along with our dirty plates. The only thing remaining is her rejection of what I’ve been trying to tell her.

  Is it really what she wants?

  It doesn’t matter. Carlene’s the client, and what she’s asked for, I have to respect. Maybe she doesn’t want another relationship? Maybe having a paid man is enough for her?

  She’s never asked me for more, and it burns deep in my gut. More times than I can count, I’ve refuted pleas of a client wanting more. Each and every time, I’ve politely refused and passed them off to another one of the guys if they’d become too demanding.

  It’s another rule.

  Don’t let the clients get too clingy, ask or assume more than what happens within the bounds of the arrangement. It keeps everybody safe. Feelings from getting hurt.

  Then why do I feel like I’m being denied something I need to the depths of my soul?

  My head finally kicks in as I take a sip of beer from the bottle.

  She’s right to do what she did.

  I have no business thinking I could ever have a real meaningful relationship with a woman.

  I made my decision almost a decade ago.

  I am an escort.

  People say you’re not what your job is. Maybe that’s true, but not when you’re an escort.

  The job defines me and my life.

  No room for any decent woman.

  With Carlene, I thought, I’d hoped, just maybe—I’m wrong.

  It’s not to be.

  We were not to be.

  Back to the job, idiot.

  Do what you’re paid to do and stop wishing for what could never be.

  “We should probably get a good night’s sleep,” she suggests and starts to gather her
purse and make a move from the booth.

  How could she seem so composed when I’m dying inside right beside her? Does she not feel it?

  Pull it together and do your job—moron.

  Enjoy what’s left of our time together. It’s all I’m going to get.

  I get up and join her at the end of the booth and signal to the server we’re ready to leave.

  “I’m just going to visit the bathroom while you take care of the account.”

  I watch her walk away from me as I move to the station to pay. My heart hurts, and my belly feels emptier than I can ever remember, even though I’ve just worked my way through a giant burger.

  The brightly colored décor suddenly seems dull, as if someone has turned down the lights.

  You’ll get over it, Rome. You’ve just been out of the front line for too long. I try to convince myself, only it isn’t really working. It doesn’t seem like that at all. I’m lying to myself. I truly fear for the first time in years, I’m going to get my heart broken and there isn’t a damned thing I can do about it.

  How ironic, the perfect ladies’ man, doesn’t get the lady.

  I pay the server and move to the entrance of the bar. Carlene joins me a few moments later and looks far more composed than I hoped.

  Is this not affecting her at all?

  Maybe she genuinely doesn’t feel the same way about me?

  I place my arm around her waist and walk her out. If all I have are the next few days, then I’m going to make the most of every second. I’m going to imprint the feel of her body against mine in my brain, so I can recall it at will when she’s gone and just a memory.

  Call me stupid. I probably am. It’s just what I want, what I need from her right now.

  I’ll deal with my battered heart later.

  Once we’re outside and heading back to the hotel, she places her arm around my waist. “You’ve given me so many firsts, Rome. I hope you’ll continue to do so. I hope you understand where I’m coming from.” She squeezes me to get my full attention until I have to look directly into her eyes and I find it so hard to hold the contact. I don’t want her to see the truth. “I hope things won’t be weird between us now. It’s not what I want. I want to keep going with the amazing time we’ve had. Enjoyed to the brim.”

  Time stills between us, and all the thoughts and feelings I’ve been fighting swirl around in my head. I want to argue we can never go back, because I want to go forward with her, only how we did it would be different.

  It would be real.

  We’d be together as a couple, not pretend.

  Then reality whispers in my ear again.

  Client Rome, client.

  What choice do I have?

  There’s a frustration I know I have no business feeling raging in my gut, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

  The words nearly chock me. “Of course, nothing changes. We go on. We stay in the moment.”

  She gives me a smile of relief. “I knew you’d understand.”

  I do.

  Doesn’t mean I agree or like it.

  My heart doesn’t matter in this. I have a service to provide and a contract to honor.

  I chose my bed long ago and now I have to lie in it.

  It’s the first time I truly regret the choice I made all those years ago.

  I am an escort.

  I’m never going to get the girl in the end.

  It isn’t how it works in this game.

  It’s nothing more than just a stupid dream.

  A stupid fairytale, and we all know they never come true.

  Chapter 20

  Carlene

  The drive to Las Vegas the next day is long, and I’m more than familiar with excruciatingly long drives. Where I’m originally from, a drive to town is measured in hours, not minutes. A mere eight or ten hour drive is nothing.

  Rome is also unusually quiet, which is making the trip seem almost unbearably long. Normally, our car trips are filled with chatter and laughter. Today, it’s more like stilted conversation filled with long periods of desolate silence. Very much like the barren landscape we’re driving through.

  I know the uncomfortable silence is a direct result of what transpired last night. I figured he’d be either one of two things, overly talkative trying to compensate or quiet.

  He’s gone with quiet, and I actually respect this more. To me, it means he’s hurting as much as I am. As much as neither of us are happy with the decision last night, surely we both know it’s right for us. How long would a relationship between us realistically last anyway?

  A month, three, a year maybe?

  I’m a lifetime kind of woman.

  This is an interlude—fun.

  An escape from the real life I’ll get back to when I head home in a few days.

  The Mustang eats up the miles as we drive on and on. Neither of us has spoken for what seems like hours. The only connection between us is my left hand on his thigh, and his hand snugly holding it in place.

  This is another thing I’ve missed. The casual contact, the intimacy of having someone to share my life with. Even if I now realize how cold my relationship with Phillip truly was, at least I wasn’t alone. One thing I’ve learned over the last eighteen months is life can get very lonely, even if you don’t realize it so much.

  The property made me strong and resilient. It also made me comfortable in spending vast amounts of time in my own company. Doesn’t mean I prefer to be by myself.

  Rome isn’t the answer to my loneliness. But my problems are more than just loneliness. I have to go home and figure out my next move. I need to find myself and start again. Figure out what is important to me and do it. Right now isn’t the time to make life-changing decision based on feelings that are likely not real beyond the time and the place.

  “You’re thinking too much over there.”

  “Habit, I guess. I just wish I had more answers.”

  “Maybe you’re not asking the right questions?”

  “Maybe.”

  I’m not going to tell him, I didn’t trust my own feelings at the moment. He’s the sort of man who could easily cloud a woman’s judgement. It’s his trade, and I’d be a fool to forget this. I won’t let myself; forgetting would just open me up to a world of hurt and self-deprecation when it all ended.

  “Have you thought any further on what you want to do when you go back?”

  “Not really, I’m just more confident now. I know I’ll make the right decision when the time comes. I guess what I’ve realized is, fate has handed me a gift of financial freedom. I don’t have to do anything. I’m going to think long and hard about what I actually want to do, and if it takes a bit more time to decide, then so be it.”

  He glances at me from across in his seat before returning his eyes to the long straight road. The reds and browns of the desert are our ever-constant companions, ironically just like when I lived in the outback.

  “I’m pleased for you, Carlene. You and I both know, there’s not a lot of things worse than worrying about how you’re going to pay your bills.”

  It’s a life experience we both have in spades. We’ve both been to Hell and back over finances.

  “Is it why you keep doing what you do?” I didn’t mean to ask this particular question. It just kind of flopped out, and now I’ve asked it, I can’t take it back and I’m not unhappy about it.

  Rome looks uncomfortable. “I don’t talk about this, Carlene.”

  I feel a little chastised. “You don’t have to answer, Rome. You said yourself you had told me stuff you’d never told another client, and I guess I was curious.”

  I watch him visibly flinch at the word “client.”

  “You’re more than a client, Carlene. It may have started like out that way, but we both know we’re now friends.”

  Friends who fuck…

  And I almost wish we’re just client and service provider once again. Somehow, being friends blurs the lines into uncomfortable territory.
/>   I wonder what friends really means.

  Silence settles between us for another few minutes.

  “Are you planning any more trips?”

  Am I? I’ve thought about it, but thinking is as far as I’ve gotten. This is my maiden voyage. This trip has been about popping my travel cherry.

  “I’d like to travel through Europe. Have you ever been?”

  He nods. “Yeah, I’ve seen a lot of it. You’d love Scotland and Wales. Of course, Paris is something to be experienced. There’s so many things over there you’d love and it’s very different from here. Scenery is different, people are different, food is different.”

  “Sounds like something I need to look more into. There’s also a lot of other places here I’d like to see. Plus, I’d love to go to Canada.”

  He takes a long sideways look at me. The road is straight and all but deserted. “Why don’t you think about staying on, if you’ve got nothing pressing to go back to?”

  For a few brief seconds, I entertain the idea. I could. There is really no reason I have to head home. But if I stay, what does that mean? Will Rome accompany me? I’m sure he would, particularly if I paid him to.

  Foolish.

  I’d just be prolonging the agony more. No, I’m going to stick to my plans.

  “I’ve got a few appointments and things I need to take care of. This trip was only ever about two weeks and seeing how I felt about the whole travel thing. If I want to come back, I can. It’s not as if there is anything stopping me at home.”

  “I’d love to show you around some more.” He doesn’t hesitate, and I’d swear, I heard hope in his voice.

  “Maybe,” I whisper.

  And I know it’s a lie, even as it leaves my lips.

  I’d love it too, but I can’t lead him on. It’s not who I am. There’s no way I could spend another trip with him like this. If I can’t have him fully then I’m better not being around him at all. It hurts too much.

  He’s given me so many amazing experiences, and in return, he’s taken my heart, whether I’ve let him know it or not.

  Rome

  Vegas is a welcome sight. The crazy vibe of Sin City immediately helps replace the awkwardness with something to talk about, explore, and enjoy.